Aftermath
by Foxfire1
Summary: Kindred wolves cope with the loss of their pack. Set during "Heir to the Shadows".


Disclaimer and Author's Note: They're not mine, and I'm not making any money out of this. The characters and settings belong to Anne Bishop; I'm just peeking behind the scenes. This is set during "Heir to the Shadows", shortly after Jaenelle returns to the Hall with the remains of Smoke's pack... "Lady Ash, two pups, and two young, terrified Warlords". As you might have guessed, this is not the most cheerful story I've ever written, but hopefully the payoff is worth it. :-) Thanks again to Vesica for the beta-reading!  
Aftermath  
  
Ears and tail held low, Smoke slunk through the woods surrounding SaDiablo Hall, straining for any trace of his Lady's physical or psychic scent. The two Warlords that the Lady had found were trailing him at a cautious distance, and the exhausted pups were asleep in the kitchen, under the capable care of the large-woman-with-food - who was very kind to Kindred in need of care, now that he'd cleared up the misunderstanding about the squawky white birds. The pack was safe.  
  
All except one. All except the heart of the pack. Ash was somewhere in these woods alone, and even farther away in spirit.  
  
When they first reached the Hall, Ash had watched carefully to be sure the pack was welcome and safe. But when the large woman found meat for them, she'd shrunk back and crept away from them, melting into the underbrush so silently it took even Smoke a moment to realize she was gone. Ash wanted to be alone and would probably chew his ears off when she realized he'd followed her...but what a Queen wanted and what she needed weren't always the same thing, and Ash did not need to be isolated and apart from the pack. Especially not now. Wolves drew strength from the pack; if Ash refused their strength when she needed it, how could she give it back again when _they_ needed _her_?  
  
If there _was_ a pack any more; if Ash could come out of the daze she'd walked in since he found the remains of the pack. She trusted him enough to follow him to safety, but he didn't think she trusted herself any longer. Killing for meat was one thing, and filled with a savage joy as often as not, but Blood killing Blood froze the heart. Whether she'd killed or simply tried to survive, the battle had left her with injuries that went far beyond the physical. And if Ash couldn't - wouldn't - lead, then the pack was dead.  
  
The thought triggered a faint, anxious whine deep in his throat, and he froze, afraid that Ash would hear it and bite him - or worse, flee even farther away. But instead he felt her presence on a shaky communication thread, tired and drained of all emotion.  
  
*I heard you before that. Stop hiding in the bushes; you'll just get brambles in your fur.*  
  
It didn't sound inviting, but she hadn't _told_ him to go away. So Smoke chose the interpretation he preferred and wriggled out of the underbrush to join his Queen. So strange, to see her all alone; even before taking the Queenship, she'd always been at the center of the pack, literally as well as figuratively.  
  
But the pack was lost to everything but memory. Soot, Ember, Charcoal. Wolves took their names from the history of their pack; wolves died and wolves were born but the pack went on. It wasn't unusual to have two or three wolves with the same name - he'd always been fond of Smoke-the- yearling, seasons younger than he was. And now he'd never know if the cub would have fulfilled his potential. Blaze, Brushfire, Spark. Lone wolves had no name at all, and neither did the two Warlords who had survived the destruction of their own pack. If Ash accepted them, they would take names from her pack - but the pack was on the verge of disintegrating, if he couldn't call the Queen back to her responsibilities.  
  
She was lying at the base of a gnarled tree, nose on paws - a silver statue of a wolf, only her eyes flicking toward him as he settled himself beside her. After a moment she sighed and swung her head up to rest across his shoulders, but she didn't move otherwise.  
  
*There is meat at the Hall,* he said tentatively. *You should eat.*  
  
Her ears tipped back in distress. *I can't. I keep seeing-* She snapped the communication thread, but not fast enough to stop the image that jumped from her mind to his - the skinned bodies of their pack, piled haphazardly on the stony ground, looking like so much raw meat. The hunters hadn't bothered with the pups, just dashed them against the dirt - all but the two Ash had managed to save. That much Smoke knew, had known from the time they found his Lady dazed and shivering in the middle of the blood- spattered clearing. Only Ash knew what had happened before that.  
  
*I couldn't run fast enough,* she said. *I couldn't run fast enough, and I couldn't choose well enough.* Her memories washed over him, memories of an ambush by human hunters and Ash's immediate order to run. It was the simplest choice for a young, inexperienced Queen to make; she'd been far more concerned with saving lives than with destroying the enemy. But it had been a deadly error - by the time the hunters cornered the pack, the wolves were too exhausted by their long run to put up the fight that might have saved them. With Ash's sister Ember and two other witches clearing her escape, Ash had fled with the two pups that were all she could carry. By the time the pups were hidden and she returned to the pack, the hunters were gone and the slaughter was over...leaving Smoke with a shattered pack and a heartsore Queen to lead it. *I should leave and hunt by myself.*  
  
*No!* A lone wolf gave up everything - family, safety, even a name. *I'll follow you across the Realm before I let you go packless.*  
  
*But I made the wrong choice and the pack is dead.* He heard a low, fierce keen in her throat and thought she might howl, but it faded into silence instead. He wished she _would_ howl; it would draw them all together instead of leaving them to grieve alone. As it was, he had two distressed Warlords who desperately needed a Queen's support, and a Queen who needed to know that her pack still trusted her. If he could hold them together tonight, they could learn to be strong again in the morning.  
  
He sent a flicker of energy to summon the nameless Warlords before turning all his attention toward his Queen. *Ash.* He got to his feet and loomed over her, in a stance as superior as he could make it; she promptly sat up, unwilling to leave him in a dominant position. He welcomed that first sign of returning spirit. *It takes a Queen, a Consort, and pups to make a pack. You're here. I'm here. The pups are safe, and the pack is still alive.*  
  
*But wounded.* She shuddered and pressed her head against his chest. *My fault.* Behind her, the older of the two Warlords stepped carefully into the clearing, anxiously glancing back and forth between Smoke and Ash.  
  
*The hunters' fault,* he said firmly. *You made a mistake, but _they_ were the ones who came to kill.* He felt grief slash through her at the reminder, and let go of logic altogether. *We're safe here, don't hold it back, my Lady-*  
  
Ash pointed her nose at the sky and howled, a low, shaky note that gained strength as it went on. Smoke joined her a moment later, his voice supporting hers as it soared. One of the Warlords stepped hesitantly forward and rolled over, baring his throat to the Queen and Consort in formal submission. A moment later, his Brother followed, and Ash wrapped them both in warmth and acceptance as they got to their feet and joined the howl. Their four voices blended together, taking the pain of the lost pack and turning it into strength for the new one. Smoke closed his eyes and gave himself to the howl, to the song that mourned their dead and celebrated the living. And to the new note in Ash's voice - faint, but growing stronger. A note of life, of strength. Of hope.  
  
Wolves came and went, but the pack was forever.  
  
-end- 


End file.
